


Taking Care

by pantaloons_in_ruins



Category: Torchwood
Genre: ABDL, Age Play, Age Regression/De-Aging, Chastity Device, Daddy Kink, Diapers, Dom Jack Harkness, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Infantilism, M/M, Spanking, Sub Ianto Jones
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-07 10:26:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11057013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pantaloons_in_ruins/pseuds/pantaloons_in_ruins
Summary: Jack decides Ianto can't be trusted to take care of himself, so he takes matters into his own hands.Takes place right after Cyberwoman.





	1. Ianto Dreams

Ianto pulled his keys out of his pockets, fumbling with them slightly in his hurry to open the door to his home. His feet dancing slightly with the need to urinate; he was barely able to keep still long enough to snick the key into the lock.

Once inside, dumping all of his work things on the nearest surface, Ianto sprinted towards the bathroom. While his apartment was rather small, it sufficed for what little time Ianto actually spent there. When he wasn’t working late for Jack. Although lately he had been working to deaden his feelings towards the rest of his life, losing himself in the day in, day out tedium of tasks. The color of his life bled out in a greyish monotony of one moment to the next.

Grey…that abysmal color, steel and chrome, the color that had taken over the woman he loved.

She was dead, he scolded himself, as he tried to refocus on work, running through the list of things still to do tomorrow. He had to finish compiling the inventory list of confirmed medical analysis devices from quadrant 73b for Owen. Toshiko had asked him to find as many references as possible in the Torchwood archives—something about a mengovirus she was investigating....to add to the list, Jack had wanted Ianto’s help in classifying and safely storing away a box of suspicious "alien" objects found at a Westershire yard sale of all places—some of which might even be real if Jack was to believed.

Ianto had picked through the box of objects dutifully as he had finished the rest of Owen’s pizza, long after the others, even Jack, had left for the weekend. Ianto had despondently pushed the objects to one side after running them through surface scans, picking them up and putting them into the stasis field drawers that made up their warehousing capabilities.

Ianto was beginning to doze off, running through the echoes of his day, reliving each portion of them as if they were speed run video clips. Picturing the objects he had catalogued, the hours spent handling and staring at them—with a start, Ianto's eyes flew open.

He HAD returned them all to the stasis field—hasn’t he? Groaning, and sitting up quickly, he tried to remember...there had been a sphere of an almost wooden material—he had dropped it and never retrieved it.

Scolding himself for his uncharacteristic forgetfulness, he picked up his coat, not even bothering to put his shoes back on, and rushed towards the door to put things right. Suddenly he stopped, literally stopping in mid-stride. His fingers were brushing something that was unexpected in his pocket. Something small…hard…spherical. Pulling his hand out, Ianto revealed the "alien" orb, its pseudo-wood finishing gleaming in the soft low warm light of his kitchen.

When he pulled out the sphere, he felt oddly calmed. He should have been more suspicious about a possibly volatile alien artefact, but he felt exposed to sudden...serenity?

The calm washed over him, conjuring images of blankets and teddy bears. He yawned suddenly, all thought of returning the sphere drowning in his mind under tides of pillows and sheets and teddy bears...teddy bears?

Jack wouldn’t mind one evening; besides the sphere had not even been entered into the archives yet. No one would notice. Rationalizing to himself, he finished undressing, discarding his vest and his pants until he was down to his boxers, toes wiggling in the carpet as he looked at his inviting bed.

Taking the mahogany-esque sphere, he placed it on his nightstand next to the bed, next to his cell phone and Torchwood credentials, to be sure he was able to remember it in the morning.

\------------------------------------

Ianto dreamed.

Ianto dreamed of being vulnerable and exposed; he fought the urge to cry at this feeling of helplessness...

He heard a voice, a low gentle reassuring voice. He strained in his dreamscape to make out the words, but the more he attempted to focus on them, the harder it became to remember his train of thought.

He was crying now, sobbing, and he didn’t know why. His tears were rising around him, becoming a pool, becoming an ocean, pulling him up with the rising tide.

And then

BLEEP BLEEP BLEEP BLEEP BLEEP BLEEP BLEEP

Ianto woke up slowly, shaking off the after-images of oceans and being swept out to sea. He was covered in sweat; whatever the dream had been it must have been intense. Pushing himself up into a sitting position, his hand resting in a damp sweat patch…no, not sweat—urine. 

Ianto had wet the bed.

Ooooo Oooooo EEEoooo OOOOO

OOOOO EEEEOOOoooo OOOOOOOoooo

Ianto groaned soggily, his phone was ringing, a tone that Jack had helped him pick out when he had first gotten his Torchwood phone. Blushing internally at the idea of talking to his boss from the midst of a wet bed, Ianto picked up the phone.

"Ianto, we have an emergency. Get down here fast."

Followed by a resounding click of Jack hanging up the phone.

"Good morning to you too…" Ianto grumbled.

Jack...Jack…Ianto was not sure how to feel about the mysterious captain. Much like how some cars could go from zero to sixty in point however many seconds, Jack had a tendency to go from emotionally approachable and sensitive to cold hearted callous bastard.

To say that Jack was the force that turned Ianto's world (however small that world had become) would have been an understatement. Considering that Ianto was now emerging from a cleansing shower at 5:47 in the morning to get ready to head into work on a Saturday. 

Piling the wet sheets into the hamper, he wrote himself a note and left it on his kitchen countertop to remind him to start the laundry when he was back from whatever emergency jack had cooked up for them this time.

Ianto was almost out the door when he cast a final, almost absentminded look back into the room, the damp sheets overflowing from his laundry basket. His eyes finally rested on the orb from the night before, and he hastily pocketed it. Ianto clicked the lights off and shut the door, his fingers curling around the puzzling sphere.


	2. Ianto Sleeps

The journey down to Torchwood, while objectively remarkable, had lost its glamour to Ianto. He no longer marveled at the perception field, no longer cringed in terrified amazement at the pterodactyl. His views on Torchwood had changed, as had his views on jack.

Jack, who only last week had found Ianto with the cyber-organic monstrosity that was the love of his life. Ianto had tried to save her, to not see the inescapable taint that had grown and grown within her. It's always easier to delude oneself than others.

The burden of the secret, like a sore in his mouth. Irritating reminders sparked by seemingly trivial events throughout his day, and like a sore, it would not heal, nor be banished from thought once the mind had focused upon it.

Guilt a double edged sword, knowing that he was deceiving his surrogate family of co-workers. Guilt knowing he was extending the suffering of the woman he loved, in a desperate gambit to find the miracle to heal her. Lies on top of guilt. Guilt on top of lies.

it was an all-consuming obsession, his every waking hour spent trying to solve the problem in his mind, while still attempting to carry on his role within Torchwood. He almost wondered if these two conflicting sides of himself might not be two different people entirely. Whatever the case, he was determined to envision a solution. His dreams were filled with her—with it.

The cold, cold metal, that sterile smell of oil unguents and heated steel. The slight itch in his teeth as her bionics thrummed with electric motive force. Consistent reminders that his quest for her salvation was futile.

The constant need to fuel her humanity, her motive life force, had left him a drained emotional husk, of which he was completely unaware. Blinded by obsession. 

Jack had found Ianto, after the ending of his half-life nightmare. After the others had gone, it was Jack who had come to pull Ianto from the night of his vitality. 

Jack had stood over the kneeling Ianto, seeing the vulnerability within him. Jack believed in all of his team. None of them had been chosen arbitrarily, despite their seeming abundance of weaknesses. They all needed his help, to give them purpose. To redeem them in one way or another. Jack had always fancied himself an eccentric father figure.

Jack had knelt down to Ianto, his eyes creased in sympathy and the understanding that could only come from an ageless existence. It was not the cyber creation that had shocked him. Not Ianto’s deception that had reached into him and stirred these feelings.

No, Jack felt this rising scream of protectiveness and concern because of the tear streaked man in front of him. Reaching out Jack gently shushed Ianto, trying to detach him from his obsessive need to care for the wreck of a human being that had been the woman he loved.

“Ianto...hey…hey there...shhh...come on, you did all you could for her.”

Ianto had latched onto Jack’s voice. For the first time in 10 minutes his gaze lifted from the floor. Slowly turning his head, he looked up at Jack. Into his eyes.

What he saw there unsettled him, and he was ashamed to say, despite the absurdity of the situation, he was startlingly disarmed by the depth of understanding he saw in them.

Ianto’s vision distorted by tears again, it was almost surprising when he felt two strong arms sliding under his legs and behind his back. He was being carried.

"J-jack…I-"

"Shh, it’s alright. Let’s get you cleaned up a bit."

Taking Ianto in his arms, he brought them to his office. Taking his coat off, Jack had wrapped Ianto in it, cleaning his face with his handkerchief.

"You betrayed my trust Ianto," jack said not unkindly, hurrying on before Ianto could interrupt. "I thought you would come to me when you needed help. Instead you hid this and attempted to get through this alone...don’t you see, Ianto? You’re not the one who needs to be saving someone. you need someone to take care of you now…don’t you, Ianto?"

Ensconced among the cushions and Jack's coat, warm tea in hand, all Ianto could do was nod in agreement.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ianto opened the doors to the inner chambers of Torchwood, expecting to see the usual bustle and banter in a state of emergency that Jack had notified him about.

Instead what he saw were dim lights, shadows, a narrow path of lighted walkway through the chamber leading to Jack's office. Perplexed at the others’ whereabouts, Ianto started upon the lighted path. As he neared Jack's office he saw the soft light’s glow piercing through the dark lacquered wooden doors, inviting him in.

Moving through the doors Ianto came face to face with Jack. Despite a supposed emergency Jack did not look at all alarmed or worried…In fact, he looked pleased.

"There’s my boy!" Jack reached out to Ianto, who pulled away, wrong-footed by Jack’s forwardness.

Attempting to keep the conversation on a ground familiar to him, in control of, Ianto kept his face stony.

"What happened, Jack? Is everyone alright? Where are Gwen and Owen? Toshiko?"

"I'm sorry Ianto…" Jack looked genuinely contrite, like a child caught with their hand in the gun safe. "There is no emergency; I needed you to meet me here now when I knew that no one else would be interrupting us."

"Please sit down Ianto, have a drink. I have some whisky if you’d like? I know you’re partial to it; trust me, a small drink will put you at ease." Jack moved behind Ianto, closing the door with a soft snick. Turning, he then leaned over an antique refreshment cart.

"Do you still drink whisky on the rocks?" Without waiting for an answer, Jack began to pour a rather generous portion for Ianto, and a somewhat lesser glass for himself. Pressing the glass into Ianto’s hand, Jack raised his glass in a toast.

"To the best whiskey you’re likely to ever come across again." Jack had a slight twinkle in his eye as their glasses clinked dispassionately.

Ianto's eyes darted towards the beverage cart, looking for anything remarkable about the bottle that would warrant such a toast. Raising the glass to his lips he took a generous mouthful, feeling the warmth suffuse his body. After a couple minutes of contemplative, loaded silence, Ianto settled himself into the warmth of one of the plush armchairs.

Jack moved directly across from him, topping off Ianto's glass. Seating himself in a chair slightly taller than Ianto’s, Jack stared at him, as if waiting for some non-verbal cue.

"Ianto...a few months ago…you told me that you understood what I was telling you I wanted to ensure that we had some privacy to discuss some of your failings here at Torchwood.."

Ianto almost choked on his drink. Failings? Was he referring to Lisa? And the deception that Ianto had orchestrated?

"Ianto…you promised me you were going to take better care of yourself. Your lack of ability to pull yourself together is beginning to affect your performance at Torchwood. I say beginning, but to be honest, it is an overwhelming tidal wave of disruption. From the cyber machination in the basement to bringing home unauthorized alien artefacts…"

Jack pushed a small button on his wrist apparatus, and a screen slid out of the lightly polished wooden table between them, showing an obviously flustered Ianto pick up a spilled box of alien artefacts, absentmindedly pushing on of them into his pocket while he endeavored to pick all of them up at once.

"Ianto, do you even want to continue working at Torchwood?"

Jack stared at him levelly; Ianto’s eyes began to water slightly. Perhaps it was the intensity of jack's gaze, the guilt of his past transgressions. He felt as if jack was growing, his presence unsettling Ianto to the point where he felt as if he would cry.

"I do, Jack! It's all I have! I need Torchwood…I need you and Gwen and Toshiko."

Jack laughed, genuinely amused. "But not Owen?"

"And Owen!" Ianto amended hastily. 

Jack was silent for a few moments; he used the silence to pour another generous helping into Ianto’s glass.

Ianto, struck by a sudden thought, looked dubiously at the drink.

"It’s not retcon, Ianto. If I wanted to retcon you, I could manage at least a degree of subtlety…unlike some others whom I won’t mention." Jack looked pointedly at Ianto, who was unable to hold the gaze and looked down to the drink abashedly.

"Ianto...I was concerned about you when we last spoke, about how you need someone to take care of you. Do you remember that?"

Ianto did not look up, but only nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Ianto…you have not been taking care of yourself. If you want to continue working at Torchwood, you’re going to need to follow a new set of regulations. I won’t embarrass you by revealing your inadequacies to the rest of the team, at least not unless you force my hand. 

“In the future, you will come to my office every evening before you leave, and every morning when you arrive, and you will detail to me everything that you have done for the hour before both."

Jack let this sit for a moment, he knew that this was the moment he would either be able to push Ianto into doing what he wanted, or he would need to force Ianto. Either way…

Ianto felt a rush of heat to his face. Jack was treating him as if he was a child! 

"I think it’s also a good idea that you agree to punitive measures within Torchwood, in order to discourage any further theft."

Ianto looked up quickly at Jack. He had never heard of punitive measures within Torchwood, apart from retcon…or death.

Jack stood up quickly, taking Ianto’s glass and setting it on a table to the side.

"Ianto, I want you to think very carefully…you have two options, you can either submit yourself to any measures that I feel are appropriate and continue your work here at Torchwood, or I can retcon you tonight, and set you up with a lovely job to start first thing in the morning."

"I-I want to stay, sir," Ianto said hurriedly, the thought of being retconned sending a shiver of trepidation throughout him.

"Stand up, Ianto."

Ianto stood up, looking at Jack perplexedly.

"Take your pants down," Jack said the words as if each were a bullet, waiting to be fired for maximum effect. The force behind the words more than anything else stunned Ianto into inactivity.

Jack waited a few moments, then without repeating himself he moved forward. Ianto felt a startling fear creep over him and backed away slightly, holding his hands up to ward Jack off as he struggled to make sense of the situation. 

"J-jack hold on now, I don’t see how this is relevan--" Ianto had stopped mid sentence, and in that moment several things happened at once. Ianto had backed right into the arm chair, stopping his retreating momentum. Jack had closed in with him, towering over him, leaving Ianto no choice but to fall backwards into the arm chair. Placing both of his hands on the arms of the chair, leaning over the younger man, Jack simply stared down at him. With a sudden movement of Jack's hands Ianto flinched slightly, his eyes shutting, then peeking open to see that jack had quickly withdrawn something from his pocket.

"You have two choices Ianto; you can take the punishment and regime that I am offering you, or you may have this," Jack said, holding up the small white pill. Ianto's eyes flicked quickly between Jack's and the ominous retcon pill.

Ianto struggled to find the words, gulping he nodded his acquiescence to Jack. Jack backed up slightly to give Ianto room to rise from the arm chair; when Ianto was too slow or too shocked to take his pants down, Jack came forward again and began to unbuckle Ianto's pants for him.

Pulling the dress pants and belt down to Ianto’s ankles, his shoes and socks clearly evident, Ianto looked a bit like a scolded English school boy. That was, apart from the erection tenting his white boxers.

Jack suppressed a grin from appearing on his face, knowing that what he did, what he said now would have echoing effects on the relationship Jack was seeking to cultivate with the younger man.

"Ianto..."Jack began in a patronizing voice. "You seem to be enjoying this; you do know this is a punishment, don’t you?"

"I can’t help it, sir…It’s just that I’m nervous; it happens sometimes…I can’t control it." Ianto spewed excuses as if they were air, his face turning a light pink in embarrassment at how his body betrayed him. Yes he was nervous, but Jack's domineering personality, if he was being honest with himself, was almost equally to blame.

"You did not answer my question, I will ask one more time, little Ianto. You do know this is a punishment, don’t you?"

Ianto felt his erection weaken slightly at the tone of Jack's voice, he was belittling him so much. Before he could open his mouth, Jack seized his ear lobe and was twisting it slightly between his fingers. He was forceful but not too forceful as he pulled Ianto's earlobe and thrust Ianto over his lap on the opposing armchair.

"Ianto…I am going to spank you now; I don’t normally do this as a form of correction. But when I began to bring Torchwood back from the abysmal heap it was in before, I had never imagined I would have such childishly selfish people working with me. Ianto, your actions are completely unacceptable.  
“I want you to count every impact for me Ianto, and every time you have received ten spanks, you are to thank me. If you do not cooperate completely, if you attempt to disengage from me, I am going to retcon your twink ass quicker than your eyes can stream tears. Do you have any questions?"

Ianto was stunned. He had made some rather selfish and childish choices, his face flushing as the list of his transgressions paraded their way through his mind. Ianto felt as if his manhood, his adulthood even, was being shredded by jack's tirade. He suddenly felt more helpless than ever before. Maybe it was the pointedness of Jack's lecture, maybe the alcohol, or the adrenalin. Whatever it was, Ianto's cock began to stiffen once more as his racing heart pumped his arousal.

Jack must have felt the pressure of Ianto's cock stiffening against his leg. He leaned down over Ianto who was facing the floor, laying over Jack's lap.

"Ianto…Ianto...I thought we had talked about this. I thought you were ready to acknowledge your guilt and take your comeuppance," Jack said in a voice like the snap of twigs and rustle of leaves on a moonless night, cutting through the silence with sharp pronouncements.

"Get up, Ianto," Jack whispered in a voice that brooked no arguments.

Ianto shuffled off of Jack's knees, his pants still around his ankles. He bent down to pull them back up, his eyes not rising higher then Jack's legs.

"No, Ianto. Leave those where they belong on a naughty child such as yourself. Go stand in the corner facing the wall." Jack pointed to a corner of the room. "Do not turn around. Keep your nose pressed firmly into the corner. I know you’re going to be curious, but you’re just going to have to trust your daddy Jack."

Ianto once more felt surprise course through him; not at Jack's words, the captain always had a way of loading most of his discourse with innuendo. The surprise was that his face could get any hotter, the flush burning with the humiliation and now degradation from his previous status in Jack's eyes. Was he only a boy to jack now? To be scolded and disciplined?

Ianto turned to press his nose firmly into the corner, not mourning the loss of Jack being able to see his flushed face or his downcast eyes. With another surge of humiliation, Ianto pressed his nose neatly into the space where the two walls met. His feelings of being treated as a little boy rather than the man that he was stifled any erection he had.

He heard Jack moving around behind him, heard a soft chuckle and clink and chime of something metal being moved, followed by Jack's voice behind him.

"Now can you be a good boy for me, Ianto?"

The younger man nodded slowly, but with acceptance. Jack watched the back of Ianto’s head bob up and down twice, signaling his confirmation.

"I want you to keep your eyes closed and to turn around to face me, then you are to spread your legs apart, and no matter what you feel, you are not to open your eyes."

Ianto felt his now humiliation induced flaccid cock and his tightly full testicles being lifted by Jack's gentle yet determined hands. Ianto felt a cold smooth brush of metal being slid over his nether regions. After a few moments of pulling and pinching Ianto sensed Jack step back.

"Ok little one, open your eyes and look at your surprise"

Ianto could only gape at Jack. Around his cock and balls, the captain had applied some form of baby blue metal restrictive device, with a metal hood that prevented Ianto's member from growing at all. In fact, it almost seemed to be compressing his member smaller then it normally would be when flaccid. 

Thinking about this compression sent a surge of blood into his cock, or at least it tried too. As Ianto's penis swelled painfully, he expected looking down to see the familiar sight of his erection. Instead, all he saw was the small baby blue prison Jack had tucked him away in.

"Over my lap, now."

Ianto walked awkwardly towards Jack, the chastity cage leaving him unable to walk normally or comfortably. Looking down at Jack, Ianto paused next to him.

"Come on, baby boy," Jack said in a sing song voice, patting his lap encouragingly.

Ianto lowered himself over Jack’s lap, feeling the older man’s hand steadying him, pushing him over so that his head was almost touching the floor, his ass bent out and upwards, plump cheeks almost inviting Jack to spank him.

Jack began to rub Ianto's bottom, pulling and groping, his fingers circling Ianto's tender orifice.

"There are a few changes we should talk about Ianto. You cannot be trusted to take care of yourself, and you cannot be trusted not to let your little wee wee—” 

Ianto would have jumped if he had been standing. "Wee wee, Jack? Really?"

With a whistle of wind Jack's hand descended quickly, striking Ianto’s round exposed buttocks.

A sharp whimpery yelp squeaked out between Ianto’s lips as he tried to turn his body to look at Jack.

"No. Stay still and take this like the good boy I know you can be."

Another sharp stinging slap.

And another. Another. Another.

Building pace, Jack was determined to set a rhythm. Reaching over to small drawer on the side table, Jack pulled out an old wooden hair brush.

"My little Ianto, I want you to call me daddy from now on, all the time. You need to show that you understand at all times who is in charge and exactly what you really are."

To add emphasis to this point, Jack began to rain the flat side of the brush upon Ianto’s rosy red bottom, every slap making the younger man wiggle and plead. Choking back tears, Ianto struggled to answer.

"Y-yes sir—Daddy. Please no more, Daddy," Ianto whined plaintively.

Jack continued to spank Ianto with the brush. He wanted to break Ianto down so that he could build him back up. The Welshman had to know that even if it hurt, Jack was going to do what was best for his little Ianto.

Finally, when Ianto could do nothing but shed tears and snot and apologies, Jack shushed him and lay down the brush.

Taking a small tube of soothing cream from the drawer in the side table, Jack began to massage the ointment onto poor, poor Ianto’s generously heated bottom. 

"There, there baby boy. That’s better. Yes, Daddy knows what you need."

Ianto felt himself flush even more, his eyes staring down at Jack's well-polished shoes and the thick carpet. There was that word again; Jack was calling himself Ianto's daddy. Ianto was a wreck; the adrenalin and helplessness of being pulled over Jack's lap for a spanking pushed him deeply into what in some circles would be called sub-space.

Ianto felt fear, a little bit of anger, a surge of humiliation…but under that seething river of post spanking emotions...Ianto also felt…what was it?

Comfort?  
The ointment was taking some of the heat from his bottom. Jack was gently shushing him as he rubbed it in, reiterating softly to Ianto that he needed someone to take care of him. That he was jack's to take care of.

Suddenly, Ianto felt Jack's thick fingers pushing gently but insistently between his cheeks.

"Sir—I'm not—I've never....ughn."

Ianto's words were lost in a groan as jack slipped two of his fingers past Ianto’s tight hole.

"Oh my little Ianto, don’t you understand? I am going to help you and teach you and shape you. You let your little wee wee take control of your actions before; that’s why we had to lock it up. No more hard-ons, no more stiffies. Don’t you see baby boy? I'm helping you adjust to the only way you’re going to be feeling any sense of relief from now on."

Jack began pushing his fingers in and out, curling his digits to elicit the most satisfying squirms, grunts, and facial twitches.

"See? Daddy knows how to take care of his little baby boy."

Jack smiled, a smile that was just for jack, as Ianto’s face was submissively staring at the floor like the naughty little boy he was. Pulling his fingers out quickly, Jack gave Ianto's bottom a swift smack and told him to get on his knees in front of him.

"In the future Ianto, taking things in your boy hole is going to be the only sex you get. You’re going to beg me to do that again. In fact I am not going to give you the pleasure of feeling your little bottom being filled until you’re so desperate that you beg me to fill you, ‘til you confirm what it is we both already know. 

“Ianto, someday soon you’re going to be begging me to pound into your little bottom, you’re going to crave me using you for my pleasure. You’ll be so thankful, my little one, that you aren’t going to care if you squirt any of your own little cummies.

"Now, I want you to go home and get some sleep. You’re free to come in a bit later tomorrow morning, but don’t forget our new rules. You are to come straight to my office first and last thing of the day."

Ianto walked. It would be a lie to say that he was dazed or unaware of his surroundings as he made his way back to his apartment. Ianto was aware of all the hustle and bustle, the people coming and going from his building, the cars in the street, the early morning joggers.

He saw them all, but such was his withdrawal into himself that once they were out of sight his mind almost forgot he had seen them at all.

Ianto's mind was burning with questions. Why had he gone along so willingly with Jack's punishment? Why was jack being so...domineering? To be fair, Jack had always had a bit of a naughty flair about him. Was Jack still angry with him? Was this some type of cruel joke?

And then there was the constant whispered assurances, almost frantic, on Jack's part. That Ianto needed this. That Ianto needed someone to look after him. That Ianto needed to feel the burning humiliation of being forced to look at and acknowledge his own ...his own what?

Ianto turned in place, staring out his window towards the square where the Torchwood facilities were buried deep underground, hidden but there.

Hidden…but there. Ianto could already feel his body shutting down, preparing to sleep despite not consciously making the choice to do so yet.

Ianto slept.


	3. Ianto Releases

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ianto finds himself in another humiliating position.

At that very moment, as Ianto lay slumbering, Toshiko was making her way into the hub, passing Jack as she placed her coat over her chair. With a slight smirk she turned towards him.

"So...how was last night? Did everything go as planned?"

Jack grinned broadly. "Perfectly. Between the two of us, we’ll both have exactly what we want soon. Did you finish that computer program we talked about?"

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Later on that day, having slept for a few hours after returning to his apartment, Ianto woke up to an intense pressure, an almost pinching pain. He pulled back his sheets and looked down at the baby blue chastity device that was locked firmly over his cock. The pressure of his erection, or what little of it could be called an erection, was straining painfully within Jack's emasculating device.

Pulling on the little prison to try and alleviate some of the pressure only seemed to exacerbate the issue. Getting up, Ianto pulled on his usual three-piece suit. The term casual dress could claim no familiarity with him.

Wandering into the mid-afternoon glow of his kitchen and living room, Ianto quickly deposited the note he had left for himself in the trash, and started his laundry. He sighed as the scent of his shameful wetting was lost among the churning sudsy water. As he watched the sheets slowly be pulled under and cleansed by the machine's screw, he found that…he also wanted to wash, to cleanse the sadness and shame he felt for his deception in Torchwood and his own personal loss. Resolving to take a shower as well, Ianto quickly shut the washing machine and left it to its cycle.

To say that Ianto found the shower to be cleansing would be a vast understatement. Despite his still aching humiliation and bouts of anger, and his confusion at his own feelings that danced in between the spectrum of those, he felt better than he had in recent weeks.

He resolved to discuss with Jack the direction things were headed, to firmly tell him how things were going to be after those outrageous things Jack had said and done. In spite of that puzzling, humiliating encounter, Ianto loved Torchwood and everyone he worked with. He had loved it when he joined Torchwood One, before Jack.

Torchwood was more than a job to him. For the first time in his life, his skills and his intuition, his very personality, seemed to be valued not only by his employer but by his...  
He stopped himself, she was dead. In fact…they were all dead...all except for him.

Jack had lifted him up, promised that his purpose in life was not over, that he would rebuild Torchwood time and time again. That he needed Ianto with him there when he did it.  


The idea of disappointing Jack, of being retconned...of losing that feeling of being part of something one of a kind…dampened Ianto's anger. In fact, he felt guilty for being angry at Jack. For all of his unconventional methods and evasiveness about his background, Jack had saved the world more times than Ianto could count.

Busying himself into the kitchen, Ianto prepared himself a hot chocolate. Yes, a hot chocolate. Despite the cliché of the English with tea, Ianto was more comforted by the process of making the hot chocolate—chopping the chocolate into tiny blocks, mixing the sugar, pouring the milk.

He settled himself with his laptop upon the kitchen's bar area, planning to read some of his favorite fan fiction. Ianto loved reading fan fiction; he also loved reading the comments that people left. 

Ianto pulled up his favorite; it was a spin off about a show called Millbury House. Squinting slightly, Ianto had to reread the words on the screen a few times to try and make sense of them. Where Ianto would normally be reading salaciously erotic descriptions of some of his favorite characters, he soon found that words, entire sentences, of familiar stories seemed to have changed.

Words such as penis or cunt or cock were replaced with teddy bear or pacifier or puppy. In fact it seemed that even overly descriptive metaphors were filtered out and replaced with some of the most bland and innocent reinterpretations.

Skimming ahead to the juicy bit that Ianto knew was in this particular story, he found that Margie did not in fact go to Will and Robbie’s for the ménage à trois. Instead he found himself reading about Margie deciding she needed to stay in that night and file her resume, while Will and Robbie had settled on a quiet night of checkers.

Perturbed by the authors latest updates, he un-bookmarked the story and opened up a new one. His expression of desperate interest slowly changed to one of consternation and then horror. No matter how many stories he opened, they all seemed to have been desexualized.

With a growing suspicion Ianto closed the fan fiction site. Doing a search for his favorite naughty tumblr blogs, he watched the screen load with dubious hope. The first thing he saw was a lovely women's face. Scrolling down to see the rest of the post, he gave a pitiful moan of disappointment. While her face was visible, anything that could be construed as erotic had been blurred out.

A sudden movement caught Ianto's eye, something had appeared at the top of his Internet browser. It was a 8 bit GIF image of a man, wagging his finger in scolding…Jack.  


Staring in absolute disbelief Ianto closed the laptop in frustration, grabbing his phone to call Jack and give him a piece of his mind. Who was Jack to restrict him in this way? Who exactly did he think he was dealing with?

The image Ianto had constructed in his mind, Jack looking contrite and a bit sheepish as Ianto berated him for his deeds, was pushed aside forcefully. In its place surged the memory and the ghost feelings of the spanking Jack had given him.

Words seemed to bubble into his mind, as if they were being whispered directly next to him.

"See? Daddy knows how to take care of his little baby boy..."

With an agitated, animalistic whine Ianto glared down at his computer. Stepping away from the traitorous machine, Ianto settled on making himself another hot beverage and watching as the now gloomy weather outside pattered gently against his windows.

Why was Jack being so heavy handed? Why was Jack instigating such a peculiar sort of intimacy? Was this something Jack had done before? Beyond all of that, why did it make Ianto feel…what was it he felt exactly?

Ianto had detested the demeanor of entitlement that Jack had taken in his office, disregarding Ianto's desires or wants. In spite of that, Ianto had felt better leaving the Torchwood headquarters.

Hardly daring to venture his thoughts in that direction, Ianto was forced to admit to himself that he had felt better, liberated, hearing Jack whisper those gentle and none too subtle reassurances. Gently chiding Ianto that he needed someone to take care of him, to watch over him. Ianto felt his cock stir, and groaned as it pushed in vain against the walls of the little prison. 

Deeply uncomfortable with what he was learning about himself, that which Jack insisted was the truth…Ianto realized he craved that liberated feeling.  
  
And the only person who could give it was Jack...

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The Next Day

A little after two in the afternoon found Toshiko and Ianto traveling north towards Westershire. Ianto and Jack had spent the other day reevaluating the box that had been purchased at the yard sale held on one Maurice Cavendish's property earlier that month.

Despite two thirds of the box being harmless bric-a-brac, it had been Ianto who had come across the fountain pen that once used, began to replenish its ink supply directly from the vitality of whoever was using it. Despite quickly being isolated within the inventory facilities, it was clear from the case the pen had come in that it was part of a set.  
Three indentations left within the worn velvet hinted at a possible ink well, as well as two other pens. The team had spent lunch that afternoon debating and bantering as to the nature of the other writing implements.

Jack had contacted the Cavendish estate, only to find out that Maurice was taking a cruise that was leaving from port that very evening, but he was eager to talk with Torchwood about the pen set before he left. Upon the conclusion of Owen's gluttonous devouring of a seventh slice of "meat lover's" pizza, it had been decided, no not decided, dictated that Tosh and Ianto would drive up to meet with Mr. Cavendish that afternoon to ascertain if the man knew anything about the history of the set, and as unlikely as it may seem, if there was anything nefarious in Mr. Cavendish's decision to hold the yard sale to begin with.

Ianto had averted his eyes when Jack had addressed him, hardly allowing himself to acknowledge the older man’s presence. He tried not to imagine what sort of punishment Jack would administer for his reticence. Though he had checked in with Jack that morning as the older man had ordered, Ianto gave him the briefest of summaries on his morning, omitting the overwhelming frustration and helplessness he felt. He was still reeling from that stunt Jack had pulled with his Internet. Luckily, their conversation had been cut short by Gwen’s boisterous arrival, her gap-toothed grin wide as she recounted some anecdote about Rhys from her morning.

"Hurry up, Ianto! We only have 45 minutes to drive 38 kilometers!" Tosh chided. As Ianto moved to open the driver’s door, Toshiko jingled the keys that Jack had tossed her, showing Ianto that he was not going to be driving.

Ianto hurried to the other side of the van, hesitating before climbing in. He cringed as his bladder did a small flutter from the soft drinks at lunch.

As if knowing exactly why Ianto had hesitated, Tosh opened the door quickly, pushing the key into the ignition and revving the engine. "Hurry up and get in, Ianto! We don’t have time to daydream!"

Ianto quickly seated himself in the passenger seat, buckling in.

Tosh floored the pedal, taking Ianto by surprise. He had never thought of her as much of a speed demon. More the opposite really.

"It’s fun to do these little outings now and then. I can’t remember the last time you road shotgun for me, Ianto."

They were going to meet Mr. Cavendish at the port, as the man had no time to delay. Toshiko’s speeding certainly wasn’t helping the pressure of Ianto’s full bladder. He inadvertently wriggled in his seat, earning him a raised eyebrow from Tosh. 

“Oi, Ianto. You need to go potty, don’t you? Well, there’s no time to stop now,” she said, half-reprimanding, half-teasing.

Internally Ianto grimaced at the condescending tone Tosh was using with him, but brushed off the bruise to his ego.

He crossed his legs, looking out at the scenery they sped past to distract himself from the inevitable. When Tosh slammed on the brakes to allow a herd of sheep to cross the road, a look of horror fell on his face as he released the contents of his bladder, soaking the leather seat of the SUV. 

Tosh cursed the wooly creatures, and then resumed her speed. “We’re almost there!” she said brightly, as though that was any consolation to poor Ianto.

Ianto tried to keep his expression stoic as he hastily removed his jacket and placed it in his lap. His apprehension rose as they pulled into the gravel lot adjoining the port. A few yards away on the dock, they could see a well-dressed elderly gentleman staring at his watch. Tosh swiftly unbuckled herself and opened the door, ushering Ianto, “C’mon, then!”

But the young man remained immobile, wanting to sink into his now-soaked seat like some sort of amorphous life form. 

“Er…you go ahead, Tosh. I’m feeling a bit…car sick,” Ianto faltered, unable to look his coworker in the eye. 

“But you’re the one who’s been studying the pens!” Tosh protested. “Between the two of us, you know much more about them.” 

“Just…go on, Tosh. Please.”

She sighed. There was no time to coax Ianto out of the car, not when Mr. Cavendish was waiting. Tosh ran ahead to the docks, leaving Ianto to fester in his puddle of shame. 

 

\-------------------------------------------------------- 

 

“Well, that was a bloody waste of time!” Tosh huffed, slamming the door of the SUV as she swiftly buckled in and started the engine. “Old bloke didn’t claim to know anything. I could’ve really used some reinforcement, Ianto,” she said pointedly, glaring at her coworker. 

Face flushed, the young man muttered an apology as he fixed his gaze straight ahead. 

"The one thing I did manage to wring out of him was that it had been a community yard sale. Why did you not tell me that there were other people involved with this, Ianto? That's rather important information, wouldn't you say? If I hadn't spoken with him I wouldn't have known, and I could've found out that much from you, if you had only mentioned it to me. How could you fail to notice that crucial fact, hm, Ianto?" 

All Ianto could do was hang his head in shame in response to Tosh's reprimand. 

“Jack won’t be pleased to hear about this,” Tosh said, something offhandedly authoritarian in her tone. 

Ianto’s anxiety plunged to new depths at the mention of Jack. He needed to do something about his wet pants.

“Tosh, can we erm…find a bathroom?”

Tosh raised an eyebrow and smirked, resuming the same condescending tone as before. “Oh? I thought you already went.” Followed by the sound of the doors locking as she floored the pedal. 

Ianto’s mind scrambled to think of how to hide his little accident from Jack, an unnameable terror descending upon him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of the lovely encouraging comments. Kinky goodness to come in the next chapter!


End file.
